


It's Dark Inside

by FlagofHeaven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Castiel, References to sexual violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 15:19:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4671509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlagofHeaven/pseuds/FlagofHeaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Usually when something hurts Dean he can just punch it in the face, but these demons are all in his head. I think we might just have to give him time.”</p><p>**In the aftermath of an violent attack, Dean struggles with his own history, his stubborn-headed need to be "fine", and the affect of the assault on him and his relationship with Cas. Sam and Castiel do what they can to help him, but ultimately he must save himself. **</p><p>TRIGGER WARNING: References to rape and sexual violence (though not explicitly depicted)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Castiel,” Sam prayed, grinding his teeth. “I don’t care what the hell happened with you two. Get your ass down here now. Seriously man, Dean is in real trouble,” he added, knowing those words would make the angel drop everything and come running.

“Sam. What’s going on? Where is Dean?” asked Castiel, appearing suddenly beside him. 

“Cas, what the hell? Where have you been?” Sam demanded. “I thought you and Dean had some bond that you knew whenever he was in trouble.” 

“Sam I don’t --”

“Seriously, what --”

“Sam.” Castiel’s stern voice cut him off. “What happened to Dean? Where is he?”

“He -” Sam paused and realized... “You really don’t know?”

“Where is he?” Castiel repeated, his patience wearing thin. 

“This way.” Sam motioned to follow him back down the hall to Dean’s room.

“He must be seriously injured if you brought him to a hospital,” Castiel commented. “Why didn’t you just call me?”

That was too much, and Sam snapped. He rounded on Castiel, pushing him against the wall with his arm, struggling (and mostly failing) to keep from raising his voice. “Dean did call you. He prayed to you and you couldn’t wing your ass down here and help him. Do you have any idea what happened to him? Can you even imagine the pain he’s in right now?” 

Castiel did not react to Sam’s anger. He seemed to consider the statement as though it had been made in a rational and respectful tone of voice. He tilted his head slightly to the side, confused. “I did not hear Dean’s prayer, Sam, something must have blocked it. What happened to him?” 

Sam took a deep breath, seeing the fear and concern in Castiel’s eyes. He doesn’t know, Sam realized, his brain suddenly kicking into hyperdrive. He truly doesn’t know. Which meant that Dean had probably been lying about calling Cas. Which meant that he did not want the angel to see or know what had happened to him. Which meant he was gonna kick Sam’s ass when they got back to his room. And then a new though occurred. Dean was probably already gone.

Sam stepped back from Castiel, lowering his hand and backing away slowly. The angel watched him warily, clearly waiting to see if Sam would explode at him again. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry, Cas,” Sam said. “I shouldn’t have -- I’m sorry.”

Castiel nodded slowly. “Take me to Dean.”

Sam turned, striding off down the hallway. The passersby who had seen him attack Castiel watched nervously as the two men passed. Sam led the way into Dean’s room only to discover that his hunch had been right. 

Dean was gone.

* * *

Dean’s whole body ached by the time he locked the cabin door behind him and sunk down on the low couch. It had been ages since they had used this place as a hideout. But the Bunker was the first place Sam would look for him, and Dean didn’t want to be found. He needed the quiet, away from his brother’s worried expression and constant hovering. Barricaded in here there were no concerned glances, no hushed whispering, there were no nurses asking him how much pain he was in ...

How much pain was he in? Physically he felt like hell. And he would know. Every inch of him was covered in cuts and bruises, and his whole lower half felt like ... No. Dean shut off those thoughts. He was not ready to relive that trauma yet. His body felt like he had been mauled by a bear, hit by a truck, and then dragged along the road for miles. 

Dean reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out one of the bottles of pain killers he had nicked on his way out of the hospital. He had not officially checked himself out, just got dressed and left before anyone could notice. Years of hunting, dining and dashing, and avoiding cops or demons had made him an expert at the stealthy, quick escape. He shook out a few into his mouth and dry swallowed them.

Bad idea. “Son of a bitch!” he grunted at the pain. His throat was still very sore. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the arm of the couch, his gun resting on his lap with his hand loosely around it. Even with a few broken fingers in splints he was pretty sure he could still fire it pretty accurately. Although he really hoped he did not have to test that theory.

His body slowly relaxed, his injuries not screaming quite so loudly thanks to those magic pills. He knew he should have called Cas. The rational part of his mind told him that he was being stupid, that Cas would fix him in a heartbeat, the pain would be gone and he could be fine --

No, that was a lie. Castiel might be able to heal his physical injuries, but even Dean -- who would deny it if ever asked -- could feel the psychological damage done and knew he would not be fine just like that. Not this time. 

Hell had been bad enough, Hell had been unbearable and constant and repetitive. But Hell had also been demons, Hell had been monsters. These were just men. These were humans. Men with more strength and numbers than even a hunter as skilled as Dean could not win against. Demons he understood, but humans were confusing. What could drive a person to cause another so much pain?

Dean shifted slightly, moaning at the shooting pain in his ribs from the action. _Call Cas you idiot,_ he told himself. _What are you so afraid of? Do you think he won’t respect you? Won’t love you? Won’t want you anymore?_ Try as he might, Dean could not conjure a real reason not to call Cas, he just knew he could not. 

His mind began to relax, and he felt drowsy -- probably a side effect of the medication -- slowly, slowly, sleep overtook him.


	2. Chapter 2

_The room was dark. It was narrow and claustrophobic. His hands were locked in a tight grip ... no, in handcuffs? chains? rope? locked around a dirty pipe. He could feel their hands on him, could feel their hot breath. The eerie light at the end of the room flickered, giving him horrific half visions of his captors. They were everywhere and nowhere. He kicked his legs, but the only blows he managed to land seemed to spur them on. There were two, no, maybe three of them. He felt the air leave his lungs as one of them rested a knee on his chest, forcing his eyes to go blurry and gray. He would not be able to stay conscious much longer in this position.  
His body screamed in agony as they landed blow after blow on him, tearing away his shirt and ripping his pants. And then his mind screamed as one of them tenderly ran his hand along the torn skin, lower and lower. He breath came in short gasps now, he tried hard to block out whatever came next -- _

_KNOCK! KNOCK!_

Dean sat bolt upright, his mind racing, his clothes drenched in sweat, and his body aching worse then ever. Dean pushed down the pain and tried to shake the terror of the nightmare away. His broken and bandaged hand gripped the gun tightly, raising it towards the door.

“Dean! Are you in there?” Sam’s voice echoed from outside.

Dean relaxed, slightly, lowering the gun and groaning in pain quietly. So much for being left alone. How did Sam find him?

“Dean?” Sam’s voice called again. “Cas and I are here, please open the door.”

Right, of course Sam had called Cas. _Like you should have_ , he told himself. Dean ground his teeth. He was annoyed at Sam for breaking into his solitude, but also thankful his brother’s loud knocking and awoken him from his dream. Flashback. Thing. Dean realized belatedly that his body was still shaking and it had nothing to do with the sudden visitors. 

There was a slight clicking sound from the door, and Dean knew Sam was probably picking the lock. Well, alright, he would do the exact same thing -- actually no, he would probably kick the damn door in and charge in demanding an explanation from his brother had their places been reversed. The lock picking gave Dean a moment to --

\-- abruptly the clicking stopped. The door did not open. Nor did Sam kick it down. What was going on? 

Dean could barely make out the sound of two voices outside speaking over each other, possibly arguing, but he could not make out exactly what they were saying. After a few moments Castiel’s voice came through the door.

“Dean? It’s me. It’s Cas,” he added awkwardly. “I came here with Sam. He asked me to come to the hospital to heal you, but you were gone. I sensed you here, so we followed.” There was a long pause. Then, “Dean, I know you’ve been shielding yourself from our bond. I know you want to be alone, and I will respect that,” his voice got softer and more emotional as he continued, “but please just let me see that you are ok. Sam and I will stay out here, we won’t come in, just... just please let me know that you’re ... in one piece.”

And then he was silent. 

For a moment Dean wanted to get up, throw open the door and let them in. But as he stood up, his body shaking once more, he knew he was not ready for that. And Cas, _dammit Cas_ , who knew him so well, understood that. Cas would not force his way inside.

Dean took another pill from the bottle and limped painfully to the door. He unlocked all four locks, undid the deadbolts, and slowly pulled the door open.

Castiel and Sam were standing on the porch, each wearing their own concerned expression. Sam smiled slightly when he saw Dean, his body obviously relaxing that his brother was alive and standing. 

“I’m in one piece,” Dean said, motioning at himself.

“Thank you,” Castiel said. “We will be out here if you need anything.”

Dean stared at him for a moment. _Why did you make eye contact?_ his brain scolded him. Looking at the resolve on Castiel’s face, the kind expression that said he had been telling the truth -- he would not come in unless Dean wanted him to, that he would stand sentry outside and would do anything Dean needed -- made Dean want to fall into the angel’s embrace. But he knew he wasn't ready.

He nodded to Castiel and slowly closed the door. He did not make his way back to the couch immediately, he simply stood, staring at the door and wondering if he was ready to open it again. 

He wasn’t. 

Slowly and keenly aware of how much his body hurt, Dean returned to the couch, collapsing on it. Despite the threat of nightmares he let sleep claim him again.

* * * 

Dean could not have gotten too far, but he had not checked himself out of the hospital and the doctors had told Sam that his brother was far too injured to be up and about. One nurse had even told him that Dean was too injured to have driven off, it must be a mistake. Sam shook his head, if only she knew how many worse injuries both of them had traveled with.

Castiel was searching for Dean using his angel powers. His eyes were glazed over and he stared off into the distance. He had patiently explained to Sam that yes, while he and Dean did share a special bond, and yes, while he could usually sense everything the human was feeling, Dean seemed to have cut him off, shutting him out. 

“I found him,” said Castiel finally. He slowly brought himself back into focus and turned to face Sam. “He’s in an old abandoned cabin not to far from here.”

Sam let out the breath he was holding. “Is he ok?”

Castiel looked down sadly. “I don’t know, Sam, I’m sorry. He’s shut me out. I can’t really see him that well. He must be asleep and his mind’s defenses are down.”

“Can you take us there?”

Castiel nodded. He placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder and the hospital disappeared. Now they were standing on the porch of one of the Winchester’s old hide-outs. Sam had not been to this place in at least two years. There was a faint light coming from inside the cabin. Sam noticed the Impala parked beside the cabin, an old tarp full of holes was haphazardly thrown over it in a poor attempt to camouflage the car.

Sam knocked loudly on the door. 

“Dean! Are you in there?” Silence. “Dean? Cas and I are here, please open the door.” He tried the handle but it was locked. 

Sam thought for a moment about kicking in the door, but thought better of it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his lock pick.

“I don’t understand why Dean is hiding from us,” Castiel mused aloud. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I think he might be embarrassed, Cas,” Sam said without thinking, trying to focus on the lock. One down, three to go if he remembered correctly.

“Embarrassed about what?” Castiel asked, confused. “I had seen you both injured before. I’ve been the cause of some of your injuries,” he added calmly. “I’ve seen you both die or be on the verge of death --”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Sam muttered.

“-- so I don’t understand what anyone possibly could have done to Dean that he would refuse our help. What sort of demon attacked him?”

“It wasn’t a demon, Cas,” Sam said angrily, his hands shaking slightly, forcing him to pause on lock-picking. He turned to the angel. “It was people. Human people. Horrible people.” Sam had been keeping his own anger at the men who had hurt his brother in check, but as soon as Dean was well Sam was gonna hunt those assholes down.

“Did they -” 

“Yes.” Sam glanced up. He could see in the angel’s eyes that he understood what had happened. 

“Sam. Stop.” Castiel said, placing a hand on Sam’s arm.

“Cas -”

“Sam. No.”

Sam removed the pick, putting it back in his pocket. For a moment he expected Castiel to fly inside them both inside. Come to think of it, why hadn’t he? But Castiel remained put. 

“Cas, what are you --”

“Sam. Think about what Dean needs right now.” Castiel took a breath. “He needs to regain control of what happens to him. If we force our way in there, he’ll just push us away or leave again.”

“He’s probably in there convincing himself why this was his fault,” Sam argued. “We can’t just --”

“Exactly. He’s already got enough voices in his own head telling him what to think and feel. We shouldn’t add to that.”

“Dean will never admits he needs help. You know that.”

“Give me a chance?” Castiel asked. “If I can’t convince him to let us in, you can take over.”

Slowly, Sam nodded. 

Castiel tapped lightly on the door. “Dean? It’s me. It’s Cas,” he added, realizing that Dean could not see him. “I came here with Sam. He asked me to come to the hospital to heal you, but you were gone. I sensed you here, so we followed.” He was not sure how to continue, how to best help the man he loved. “Dean, I know you’ve been shielding yourself from our bond. I know you want to be alone, and I will respect that,” he forced his voice to stay calm, “but please just let me see that you are ok. Sam and I will stay out here, we won’t come in” (Sam glared at him, but Castiel continued) “just, just please let me know that you’re ... in one piece.”

Castiel and Sam waited for a long moment, glancing nervously at each other and then back at the door. Sam understood what Cas was trying to do for Dean, and he truly hoped it worked. Despite how long they had known each other, Sam was occasionally still surprised at how well the angel understood his brother. 

There were halting footsteps, followed by the clicking of unlocking the door. Slowly, it swung open, revealing Dean who leaned against the door for support. 

A wave of relief passed through Castiel. Dean was ok. Well, he was at least alive, in one piece, and able to stand. Sam smiled and let out a breath. 

“I’m in one piece.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said. “We will be out here if you need anything.” He wanted to reach out his hand and heal Dean, to take all the pain away and hold him close and shield him from all the pain he could see written in the hunter’s eyes. But he would not. Like he had told Sam, they had to consider what Dean needed, and in this case, Castiel would wait for Dean to be ready for that. As their eyes met Cas could see the deep well on pain in Dean’s and he wanted so badly to help. For just a moment Dean looked like he was thinking the same thing as Cas, but the moment passed and Dean slowly closed the door. 

There was no click of the lock.

Cas leaned back against the wall of the cabin next to the door. He closed his eyes for a moment.

“Cas, are you ok? You look ... you look sick.” Sam’s voice was laced with concern.

Cas sighed, running his hands absently through his hair. “The bond I have with Dean, it isn’t normal. It’s hard to explain, but usually I can feel what he feels. Not to the same extent. More like a muted version of his physical state.”

“You mean if he’s in pain you can feel it?” Sam suggested.

Cas nodded, opening his eyes. “Except not now. I don’t think Dean wants me to feel the pain he’s in.” He looked very sad. “I just don’t know why Sam, I don’t know why he’s blocking me out like this.” He took a deep breath. “Usually the bond is something we can both pull strength or warmth from. But now, with this block that Dean’s put up, it’s, uh, it’s like a migraine. Being disconnected is...discomforting. I will be fine,” he assured Sam. “I just wish I knew how to help him.”

“I think you already are,” Sam said gently. 

Castiel smiled slightly at this. Sam leaned against the wall next to him, sliding down into a sitting position. Castiel sat down to join him. They sat in comfortable silence for awhile. At long last Castiel spoke.

“What happened?”

Sam sighed. “I don’t really know all of it Cas,” he admitted. “Dean and I were on a case,” he said quietly. “It was simple, a haunting at a local high school, run of the mill salt-and-burn deal. Except then the ghost came back and we found out that she’d been a softball player and her blood was all over a catcher’s mitt in the trophy case, so we burned that too. We thought about just hitting the road to go home, but we were both tired so we checked into a motel. Dean went out on a supply run for beer and burgers and never came back.”

Sam paused, remembering the concern he’d felt earlier that night when he could not find Dean. Castiel sensed his discomfort and felt bad for asking Sam to relive it all. Tentatively he reached over and placed his fingers on Sam’s forehead, sending waves of calm and warmth into the hunter. 

“Thanks.” Sam’s breathing slowed and he appeared more relaxed and centered. “I figured he’d stopped at a bar or something. Or got distracted looking for a new case. I passed out and when I woke up six hours later he wasn’t back yet. I called. I texted. I didn’t hear from him. I thought if he’d gotten into real trouble he would have called you.” Sam shook his head. “Stupid. It was stupid. I shouldn’t have waited that long to go look for him.” 

“You made a string of logical assumptions, Sam,” Castiel said quietly. “You can’t be blamed for what happened to Dean.”

“Yeah, I know,” he conceded. “At some point I went out looking for him. There was another car at the motel and I, uh, borrowed it. It wasn’t a large town, but there was no sign of him. I asked at the gas-and-sip if he’d been in there and the guy remembered seeing him, but he didn’t know what had happened after he left with the beer. He was pretty out of it.” Sam took a breath. “There was blood in the parking lot. It was a trail that led to a back alley a few blocks over and there’d obviously been a fight. The trail led to a warehouse, where it looked like someone had been chained up. There was blood everywhere. But the there wasn’t another trail so I went to the hospital.

“Dean was there. Somehow he’d gotten himself there and then collapsed in the ER lobby. He was...” Sam took a breath, he had seen his brother pretty badly hurt before, hell, he’d personally kicked the crap out of the guy more than once, but nothing was like this. “He was in bad shape, Cas. He still is. The doctors didn’t believe me that he could have driven there -- his body was...broken. And when he saw me, he just looked...” Sam trailed off again. “I asked him where you were and he --”

“He told you he had already prayed to me and I had not come,” Castiel finished.

“Yeah. I’m sorry Cas, I shouldn’t have yelled at you at the hospital.”

“You believed your brother and there was no reason to think Dean would lie.”

“Right. Yeah.”

Castiel glanced over at Sam. The younger man looked tired and worn down. Lack of sleep, worrying about his brother had taken a toll on him. 

“Sam, I can sit here if you’d like to get some sleep in the car,” Castiel offered.

“I’m ok,” Sam lied. 

Castiel did not argue.


	3. Chapter 3

Shaking, breathing rapidly, and once again drenched in sweat, Dean jerked awake. The nightmare somehow seemed worse than the real thing had been. He had had post traumatic nightmares before; for weeks after being back from Hell all he could dream about was the innumerable pains and terrors of the Pit. And he had played through that pain. So why were these dreams so much worse?

Dean sat up, ignoring the physical pain for a moment and walked to the door. He was torn between wanting to hide away from everything and wanting the comfort he knew Castiel could provide. He knew Castiel could take away all the pain and make him feel better. He strode to the door, but reaching for the handle, he hesitated. He turned and leaned back against the door, sliding down until he was seated.

“Cas, you still out there?” he asked the door.

“Yes, Dean, I’m here,” came Castiel’s voice in reply. “Sam is here too, but he fell asleep on the porch.”

Dean smiled slightly at the image. Of course his brother would not leave his side, even if it meant sleeping on the bare wood of the porch. To be fair, they had both slept in worse places. Dean closed his eyes, still unsure what he wanted. His body shuddered with pain and exhaustion, but he knew he could not go back to sleep, so he made no move for the couch. He knew sleep was inevitable, but sleep would bring back the nightmares and he knew his mind could not handle more of those yet. So as much as it hurt, he would wait as long as he could to take the pain killers and would keep himself awake. 

“Do you need anything?” Castiel asked through the door. “Do you have medication for your injuries?”

Go figure even without their special bond, the damn angel could still read his mind. Dean felt sick for a moment, why was he doing this, keeping this literal wall between him and Cas? The angel loved him. Loved him. Castiel had seen him on his worst days, and still wanted to be with him. Why did Dean think this time would be different?

A lump began to form in his throat and Dean forced himself to pull it together. “I’m --” _don’t you dare say “I’m ok”_ , he told himself, _that is a load of crap_. “I have pain killers, Cas, thanks.”

Castiel did not reply. Assured that Dean did not need anything, he was giving him the space he promised and was not pushing. Dean felt like even more of a dick. Eventually the silence was too heavy for him.

“You couldn’t convince Sam to sleep in the car?” he asked, looking for anything else to talk about. 

“I tried,” Castiel said. “I think his protective older-brother instincts are superseding his physical comfort.”

“Hey, I’m the older brother.”

“Having watched you both for many years, I’ve noticed a pattern that you each take turns in that role,” Castiel commented in a matter-of-fact way.

“Can’t argue with that.”

The silence was setting back in, and Dean realized that he had really enjoyed the distraction provided by talking. He needed it.

“Cas?” The problem was, he could not think of anything to say.

“Yes?” 

“I, uh...” Dean just wanted to see him. He tried to stand to open the door, but jarred his body in a way that triggered all his injuries to protest at once. He groaned audibly at the pain.

“Dean, are you alright?” Castiel’s voice was suddenly urgent and concerned. 

Dean clenched his jaw. “Yeah, I’m -- No. No, I’m not.”

“Dean, please open the door.”

Slowly, and being more mindful of his injuries, Dean pushed himself off the floor and opened the door.

Castiel had stood up, though Sam remained asleep on the porch. His face was a mask of concern, and he looked like he was fighting the urge to rush forward and grab the hunter. 

Dean was pale, the usual color gone from his cheeks and his breathing becoming more shallow. Denying himself the pain medication was taking its toll on his body and his mind. He kept one hand on the doorframe, needing the physical support to feel confident he could remain upright. 

“Hey, Cas.” He tried to keep the pain out of his voice ... tried, and failed. 

“Dean, I know you are in pain. I know that you’ve convinced yourself that you need this pain or that you deserve it or that it will help you move past what happened.” (Yep, the angel knew him pretty well.) “I could heal you if you want,” Castiel continued, “but if you insist on riding this out in this way, please don’t do it alone. At least let me come in and be with you.”

Dean stared him for a long moment, their eyes meeting and gazes locking together. He knew Cas was right; and he knew Cas was showing great restraint in not calling Dean out for being a stupid asshat and just healing him regardless of the stubborn-headed hunter’s wishes.

At long last he nodded. “Yeah, come in Cas.” He stepped back from the door, motioning for the angel to follow him inside. “Oh, wait. Can you poof Sam into the back room -- there’s a bed in there that’s probably loads more comfy than the porch.”

Castiel nodded. He knelt down, placing two fingers on Sam’s forehead and suddenly the younger hunter was gone. Castiel turned back to Dean, hesitant, as though waiting to see if the invitation to come inside still held. Dean opened the door further and Castiel stepped inside, closing it behind him. 

The moment he crossed the threshold Dean fell apart. He stepped towards the angel, collapsing against him. Castiel compensated immediately, wrapping him arms around Dean and holding him tightly.

Dean felt like his whole self would come apart in Cas’s arms. He did not notice the angel gently move them both to the couch, but soon they were both seated, with Dean’s head resting comfortably against Cas’s chest, the angel’s arms holding him close. There was a slight flash of light and Dean swore he saw the silhouette of wings against the wall. He definitely felt Cas’s grip on him tighten and a warm feeling -- like a blanket -- surrounded him. 

“You are safe now,” Castiel told him softly, but his voice held traces of the warrior he was. “You are safe.”

Dean relaxed into his touch, feeling for the first time in hours that he would actually be ok. Not right away, but eventually. There was something in Cas’s voice and arms that told him it was true. He took a deep breath, but his body shuddered in pain again. 

“You should sleep, Dean, it will help with the pain. Where is your medication?” 

Dean shook his head slightly. “Can’t sleep.”

“Dean.”

His breathing was getting shallow again, the room was spinning and Dean was not sure how he was staying conscious. “Can’t sleep. Please, Cas.”

Castiel ran one of his hands through Dean’s hair, soothing him. “Ok, it’s ok. Just breathe.”

There was a warmth that radiated off of Cas and Dean found it easier to breathe.

“When you slept before, you had nightmares?”

Dean nodded slightly. 

“About the attack?”

“Yeah.” His voice barely above a whisper, “I can’t not see it. It’s like it’s happening all over again. But worse. So I can’t sleep. Please.”

Castiel considered this, struggling not to be frustrated with his human. Why did this man insist on making everything as hard as possible? There were plenty of times in the Winchesters’ lives when they did not have a choice, or when every choice was a bad one. But Castiel had observed that they had an almost pathological need to always make bad choices, to always choose the harder path even if there was a better solution presented to them. Castiel assumed this was a product of the lives they had led, years of disappointment and pain had conditioned them to think there were no easy paths. 

He continued to stroke his hand through Dean’s hair, the other gripping tight to his arm and holding him close. While Castiel would not do anything to Dean without his permission, he allowed his own celestial energy to radiate slightly off his body; the warmth seemed to have a soothing affect on Dean. 

“Dean,” he said eventually. He had taken it on himself years ago to protect the hunter, and sometimes that seemed to mean protecting Dean from his own stupidity.   
“Please let me help you.”

“Cas, I -”

“No. Listen,” Castiel interrupted him. “Your body is terrible pain and your mind is in agony.” Dean’s body chose that moment to shudder again, which only seemed to spur Cas’s resolve. “You’re in pain, and you don’t need to be. What happened to you was not your fault and you don’t need to punish yourself. Please, don’t do this. Don’t hurt yourself, Dean, you’re worth so much more than that. You are worth everything.” Castiel fought to keep his voice steady, but the raw emotion kept creeping back in. “Please, let me heal you. Let me stop your nightmares so you can sleep. I know you’re hurting, I know you’re scared, but please, Dean, just let me help you.”

A heavy silence followed Castiel’s plea, but at long last Dean nodded.

“Ok.”

“Ok?” Castiel was a little surprised Dean had agreed so quickly.

“Yeah.” He shifted slightly so he could look at the angel’s face. “You’re right, ok? Can you fix me?”

Castiel smiled. “Yes.” He gently placed one of his hands on Dean’s forehead and the other on his chest. This time Dean definitely saw the shadow of wings as a warmth rushed through him. 

Suddenly the pain was gone. His body was whole again. The cuts, the bruises, the scratches were healed. The throbbing pain in his lower half was gone, leaving only the scar on his mind of the attack.

Castiel continued to hold onto him, and Dean was finally able to painlessly move his hand up to rest on Cas’s arm. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

Castiel shook his head. “Sometimes you are a very high maintenance person,” he commented, kissing the top of Dean’s head. He glanced around the cabin’s living room slash kitchen. “Is there another bedroom you can sleep in, or would you like to stay on the couch?”

Dean was so comfortable curled against Cas on the couch, he really did not want to move. But common sense told him that sleeping on the couch wasn’t the best idea. He reluctantly untangled himself from Cas. Without his injuries, standing up was an easy task. He reached a hand down to Cas, who took it. Dean did not let go when Cas stood, but nodded towards the open door leading to the other bedroom. 

“It’ll be more comfortable,” he said shrugging.

Castiel followed him to the bedroom. 

The room was small, just big enough for the full sized bed and a small dresser that sat in the corner. The bed looked like it hadn’t been used in years, but to Dean’s exhausted mind, it was a five star hotel. He did not look at Castiel as he asked, “You said you can take away the nightmares?”

“Yes,” replied the angel, stepping up behind him and resting his chin on Dean’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist. “But. Dean, to do that, I need you let me in. I need you to let me back in the bond with you,” Castiel continued softly, his arms gently hugging Dean, hoping to show him he was safe. “I need you to trust me.”

Dean took a deep breath. Of course he trusted Cas, how could the angel think otherwise?

_Really? After the dickbag you’ve been all night, and you don’t get it?_ he criticized himself. But opening that bond between them was not a small thing, Dean realized, it would mean a level of vulnerability that came with the connection. He was barely holding himself together, using the wall he’d constructed in his mind to keep himself upright. Taking down that wall ...

“I trust you, Cas,” he said, turning in his arms to face Castiel. He leaned forward and kissed the angel lightly, their lips pressed together for a brief moment. As he did so, Castiel felt a wave run through him as Dean let him back in. It was like his ears had popped or his eyes had cleared, he could suddenly feel Dean’s mental state.

And it HURT.

Castiel broke the kiss, pulling Dean close as he felt his resolve crumble. Dean collapsed into his arms. The wall that had been holding it all back was gone and he could not stand without it. 

Castiel guided him gently to sit down on the bed, running his hands along Dean’s back and neck to soothe him. Castiel could feel the nausea and mind-numbing pain running through Dean’s mind and soul, and sent his own calming warmth to Dean, hoping to alleviate even a tiny bit of the pain. Dean’s body shook violently and Castiel held him tightly. The pain he had sensed when Dean first let him into the cabin had barely been the tip of iceberg.

Laying him down gently and pulling the faded quilt over them both, Castiel clung onto Dean with everything he had. Once again he whispered “you’re safe”, and he could feel the calm his presence brought to the hunter, he only wished he could do more.

“Sleep, Dean. Please. I will keep the darkness away from your mind.” Going against everything he had said earlier and taking control completely, Castiel placed his hand on Dean’s forehead, inducing a deep and peaceful sleep. The man’s body stopped shaking and he relaxed against Castiel’s chest. 

* *  
Sam woke up, feeling far more comfortable than he had expected. He realized with a start that he was not on the porch, but a quick glance around told him he was lying on a bed in one of the cabin’s bedrooms. Castiel must have moved him in here after he had fallen asleep.

Every part of Sam’s body begged to go back to sleep. The bed was warm and comfortable, and if he crawled under the blankets he probably would never get up. But his brother was in trouble and that was his priority. Castiel had been so careful with Dean, so set on saving him by giving him back the simple powers that had been taken. If Cas had moved him in here, it was very likely that Dean had finally opened the door. 

Quietly, Sam got out of the bed, and headed for the main room of the cabin. Finding it empty, he glanced over to the other bedroom. He was relieved to see Dean asleep, curled up next to Cas. His body showed none of the bruises or injuries from earlier and Dean’s face looked peaceful as he slept. 

Sam moved over to the doorway. “How is he?” he whispered.

Castiel looked down at Dean for a moment, considering. “He allowed me to heal his injuries,” he said finally. “And I’ve blocked his nightmares so that he can sleep in peace.”

Sam nodded. Good, Castiel had gotten through to Dean. Sam could almost feel his own bed calling him back.

“I will watch over him,” Castiel said. “You should also get some sleep.”

“Thanks, Cas. And thanks for moving me inside,” he added, turning to go. One last look at his brother -- ok, Dean was recovering, he had stopped (at least momentarily) being a dick to Cas and let him help -- Sam could sleep peacefully too.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean woke up normally this time. His breathing was normal, his pulse was not racing and he did not feel terror ripping through him. His eyes opened slowly, taking in his position. He was curled up against Cas, whose eyes were closed and arms still held onto Dean. Sunlight peeked through the curtain.

“Good morning,” said Castiel sleepily. 

Dean smiled. “Hey, Cas.”

They lay there quietly, limbs tangled together. 

“Thank you,” Dean said quietly, taking Cas’s hand and entwining their fingers. Castiel responded by squeezing his hand. 

“Is Sam ok?”

Castiel smiled, shaking his head. Of course Dean would worry about Sam. “He’s fine. He came to check on you earlier but you were asleep and I sent him back to bed.”

“Good,” muttered Dean. “Sam worries too much.”

“We could all benefit from rest,” Castiel continued. “There’s no need to get up yet.” As though to prove his point burrowed a little deeper under the quilt.

Dean pulled back slightly, positioning his face closer to Castiel’s. “I mean it, Cas,” he said, “Thank you. You saved me last night and --” he leaned in, bringing his lips to meet Castiel’s. A warm feeling spread through his body as they kissed. It would be ok. He ran his hands along Cas’s arms and chest. _This was right, this was nice, this was --_

Unbidden, the scene appeared in his head once more. Their hands were everywhere, touching his bruises and other places that caused a feeling of nausea. Their hot breath was on his neck, their lips claimed his against his will.

Dean jerked back from the kiss, pushing himself as far from Castiel as he could without falling off the bed. His pulse was racing, his breath was shallow.

“I, uh. I. Oh fuck.” He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the vision to be gone and to take this horrible feeling with it.

A gentle, warm hand touched his shoulder, and Dean could feel the warm tendrils of Castiel’s grace touching him through their bond. “Dean, it’s ok. You’re here, Dean, you’re here with me.” Dean made himself focus on Cas’s voice. Slowly the world came back into focus, breathing became easier.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “god, Cas, I am so sorry.”

Castiel shook his head. “You did nothing wrong, Dean. There’s nothing to be sorry for. Please come back.”

Dean scooted back over to Cas, letting the angel cradle him once more. “I’m sorry, Cas, I’m so fucked up right now.” 

“I imagine I would be more concerned about you if you were not acting this way,” Castiel mused aloud, “perhaps it’s just a sign that you’re still alive.”

Dean considered this. Still alive, huh? Then why did he feel so dead inside?

* * *  
They stayed at the cabin for five days, while Dean’s mind continued to recover. Sam came back from a supply run with pizza and was very happy to see his brother willing to eat again. 

On the third day, seeing that Dean was doing better, Castiel excused himself and disappeared for a few hours. When he returned Sam pulled him aside to ask what was up.

“Nothing,” Castiel said, but there was a fire in his eyes. 

“Cas. Come on, man, what’s going on?”

Castiel glanced over to Dean, who was asleep on the couch. He motioned for Sam to follow him outside. 

“I found the men who hurt Dean,” he said.

“And?”

Castiel looked defiantly at Sam. 

“Cas, did you... did you kill them?”

Castiel’s eyes burned white for a moment. “Yes,” he said simply. “And I watched their souls go to hell.”

Sometimes Sam forgot that Castiel wasn’t human, that he was a celestial being whose anger could literally scorch the earth around him. At this moment Sam was acutely aware of Castiel’s power. 

“They were not good people, Sam,” Castiel added, looking more human again. “Dean was not their first victim. And he would not have been their last. Their souls were marked for the Pit, I just expedited the process.”

Sam nodded. Honestly, he supported Cas’s decision. If he had come face to face with those men he probably would have done the same. 

“Are you going to tell Dean?” 

“Tell me what?” Dean appeared in the doorway, beer in hand.

Sam looked between Castiel and Dean.

“The men who hurt you, they’re dead,” Castiel said. “They’re gone, Dean.”

“Too bad. I was really looking forward to chaining them up and beating the shit out of them for several days.” Dean took a swig from his beer and turned back into the cabin. 

Sam watched him go, uncomfortable with how sincere Dean’s comment was.


	5. Chapter 5

On the fifth day at the cabin Dean was restless.

“Got any cases, Sammy?”

Sam glanced up from his phone, where, he was in fact, reading the news. “Uh...”

“Come on man, I’m ok, I promise. I mean, fine, maybe I’m not,” he added, glancing at Castiel, “but I can’t keep sitting around here. I gotta go out there and gank something. I know you’re looking for cases on that thing, so share.”

Sam looked at Castiel, who merely shrugged. 

“Ok, well, there’s a mysterious death of three sets of couples, all married exactly four years and then found hung in their houses. Seems kinda weird.”

“All in the same house?”

“Strangely, no. And not married the same year either.”

“Any connection between the vics?” This is what he needed: a good old fashioned case to distract him.

Sam shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Any similarities? Other than the whole dying-the-same-way thing?”

“Not listed here --”

“Great, let’s go check it out.” Dean sprung to his feet, grabbing his jacket. Sam hesitated and Dean gave him a look. “Come on, Sam. We both know how this argument goes, we’ve played this tune before. So let’s just skip to the part where you agree.”

* * *

“Look at this,” Castiel said, spreading out newspaper clippings on the table in their motel room. “Are these women wearing the same ring?”

Dean and Sam glanced up from their laptops. 

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Good catch, Cas.”

Castiel had laid out the obituary stories for each of the couples, each of which included a photo. The three women all wore an engagement ring with an interweaving pattern etched into the band and a large diamond in the center. 

“Ok, so cursed object? Or objects?” Dean said.

“Only connection we have so far,” Sam said. “I’ve checked into their financials, their school affiliations. Different social circles, no criminal records. Nothing else to tie them together.” 

“Yeah, and the lady at the morgue wasn’t that helpful,” Dean commented. He and Cas had gone to check out the bodies earlier and turned up nothing unusual. “Ok, so, cursed object means we need to get ahold of all three rings and lock them up.”

“Assuming there are only three,” Castiel added. 

Dean sighed in frustration. “Right.”

Sam turned back to his laptop. “I’ll find out where they got the rings from. See if there are any more of them.”

“I’ll see if any hunters nearby know where we can get a curse box to contain them.” Dean pulled out his phone and scrolled through the directory. “Cas, why don’t you go back to the morgue and collect the rings? Don’t touch them,” he added sternly.

“I doubt they would affect an angel,” Cas replied grumpily.

“Let’s not chance it?” Dean bit back, a little harsher than he meant. 

Castiel rolled his eyes and disappeared.

“What?” Dean asked in response to Sam’s look of amusement.

“Nothing.” He watched Dean for a moment. “How are you doing, anyway?”

“I’m fine.”

“Dean -”

“Said I’m fine, Sammy.” 

Sam held his hands up in mock surrender. “Ok, man, just checking.”

Dean didn’t look at him. He was fine. He had to be. Because he was always fine.

* * *  
Castiel returned later with the rings and a curse box that Dean had discovered was a few states over. They carefully put the three rings into the box and locked it tight.

“Well, that was easy,” Dean commented. “Guess we should put this back in the storage room at the Bunker.”

Sam shook his head, hanging up the phone. “It’s not over,” he said. “I talked to the store that sold the rings. There was a fourth one made by the same jeweler.”

“Let me guess, someone bought it?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. I’ve tracked down the couple. They were married five years ago.”

“Wait, five years, that means they’re --”

“Probably dead, yeah. But I have an address, we should probably go check it out.”

“Great, because this hunt was pretty boring,” Dean said, grabbing his keys.

* * *   
“There’s something wrong here,” Castiel commented as they pulled up in front of the small house. It was on the edge of town and looked abandoned. Shrubs and tall grass overran the yard in front. The paint was peeling, some of the shutters were broken.

“No kidding,” Sam agreed. 

They grabbed weapons from the trunk and headed into house. Sam headed upstairs, Dean checked the living room and kitchen, Castiel following close behind. It was gross, dusty, and clearly hadn’t been lived in for a few years, but there was no sign of anything weird.

“Guys, up here,” Sam called down a few minutes later.

Dean and Castiel headed upstairs, finding Sam in the master bedroom. Two bodies hung from the rafters above.

“Found the fourth couple,” Sam said. He covered his mouth and nose with his left hand and took a step closer. “And there’s the ring.” He nodded towards the decaying hand of one of the bodies. 

“Ok, gross.” Dean handed his gun to Cas and pulled a knife from his pocket. “Let’s get the ring first and then --”

Dean was cut off by the ghost that barreled through the wall and crashed into him, knocking him across the room. 

Sam raised his salt gun, glancing around wildly for the spirit. Castiel reached down to help Dean up, but caught off guard, the angel was similarly knocked down by the second spirit.

Sam fired at the spirit it disappeared for a moment. Dean rolled back onto his feet, and pulled open the bag he’d brought. “Cut them down,” he directed Cas. Castiel looked up at the bodies and they fell from the rafters, landing on the floor with a loud thunk. Dean grabbed the gasoline and salt from the bag.

The spirits returned, one going straight for Sam and the other grabbing Dean. Dean felt his body slam, hard, into the wall. That was gonna leave a bruise. He still had the salt in his hand and he knew he should throw it into the ghost’s face. 

He froze. 

The ghost shoved him against the wall, grabbing his wrists and shoving them above his head. The salt fell from his hand. Dean could feel his breathing quicken and pulse race. A dresser slammed into him, throw across the room by the spirit. It knocked out of the him and he didn’t try to push it away.

He couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. 

The ghost was engulfed in flames and disappeared in a screaming fire cloud. Dean’s ears were ringing and his body felt numb as Sam rushed over to him and checked to see if he was injured.

The physical touch awoke Dean from his stupor and he brushed Sam off. “I’m fine,” he said. “Did you get the ring?” he asked before Sam could say anything. 

“Here,” Castiel said. He had picked up the ring with a small towel, careful not to touch it. 

They waited until the corpses were burned and returned to the car. Castiel placed the ring into the curse box and stashed it in the trunk. Dean tossed the weapons bag in and got into the car, silent. 

“Cursed object and ghosts,” Sam commented. “Guess it wasn’t so boring after all.”

Castiel slid into the back seat. “That was interesting,” he agreed.

“Right, great fun,” Dean commented dully, starting the engine. He didn’t look at Sam or Cas, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead. He turned the radio on and cranked the volume up. 

Sam glanced back at Castiel, who was watching Dean with a mixture of fear and sympathy. Sam caught his eye and Cas sadly shook his head a fraction.


	6. Chapter 6

Back at the Bunker, Dean made straight for the showers, blocking everything out as the hot water pounded against his body. He turned the heat up as high as he could stand. His mind kept flashing back to the moment he had frozen. He could have been killed. Or gotten one of the others killed. _Stupid mistake. Stupid, stupid,_ he told himself. _You’re better than that. You’re supposed to be a badass hunter and you can’t even gank a few simple spooks. Useless._

After what seemed like hours but probably wasn’t, Dean turned off the shower and headed back to his room. Castiel was waiting for him, perched on the edge of their bed. He did not speak when Dean entered, but watched silently as the hunter pulled a fresh t-shirt and jeans on. 

“Well.” Dean turned to face Castiel. “Let’s hear it.”

Castiel did not respond, but he did look concerned. 

“Come on, Cas. Just say it. I shouldn’t have gone on that hunt, I wasn’t ready, we should have come back here from the cabin.” Dean paused, but Castiel remained silent. “Say it! I know you’re thinking it, Sam too. You knew something would go wrong, I fucked up and almost got us all killed.”

“Dean. Enough.”

Dean shut up. Castiel held out his hand, and slowly Dean took it. Castiel pulled him over to sit on the bed beside him, moving his hand to Dean’s back.

“You did not ‘screw up’,”. (Oh man, the air quotes.) “You’ve been through a trauma and your mind reacted accordingly.”

“I’ve been traumatized a lot, Cas, I’ve never lost it during a fight before.”

“We both know this wasn’t like other times.”

“It was stupid, Cas, can we just forget it happened?”

Castiel sighed. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

A hunger overtook Dean, a feeling he could not quite explain. He leaned over and kissed Cas. Hard. It was not gentle or kind, just a base hunger and need as he smashed their mouths together.

Castiel pulled back gently. He was not sure what was happening, but it didn’t feel right. 

Dean was having none of it. He grabbed at Castiel, pulling him back into the kiss, his hands greedily grasping at Castiel’s shirt. 

“Dean. Stop.” Castiel pushed him away again, getting up from the bed. “This won’t help you. I’ll come check on you in a bit.” He headed for the door and was about to open it when his body was suddenly shoved into the wall, Dean roughly spinning him around and pressing their bodies together against the wall.

Exasperated, Castiel tried once again to escape Dean’s grasp, but the hunter only pressed them closer together, roughly claiming his mouth.

“Dean, please. Enough.” Castiel’s voice was firm. 

The rough voice that answered was not Dean’s, not really. “Yeah, that’s right, beg.” It was dark and haunting, full of malice. “Go ahead, angel, beg me to stop.”

Dean was gone, lost to the demons in his head -- sadly, not the kind Castiel could smite. The pain of the past few days had overtaken the rational parts of his mind and he was walking a very dangerous line. A small part of Castiel just wanted to fly out of there, but his concern for the human overpowered his own fear. He could save Dean from falling into this darkness. He could pull him back. He had to.

“Dean. Stop.”

Dean ignored his words, ignored Castiel’s pushing at him, ignored the angel’s attempts to shrink away from him. He pulled open Castiel’s shirt, running his hands and mouth all along the bare skin. His right hand went for Castiel’s belt and pants.

Fear tore through Castiel. “Dean. Look at me!” he commanded, his voice suddenly carrying celestial power. Green eyes met blue and Dean froze. He seemed to awaken from the crazed behavior that had overtaken him. He pulled his hands off Castiel, and slowly stepped backwards, hands raised slightly in front of him. 

Dean looked horrified, and felt sick at what he had just done. He waited for Castiel to speak, to berate his deplorable behavior, or perhaps to strike him. They stared at each other for a long moment, the silence hanging heavy between them. At last Dean spoke, his throat dry.

“You’re an angel, Cas, why didn’t you fight back?” 

Castiel did not respond. 

“Cas, I --”

Castiel turned and fled the room. Dean’s knees gave out beneath him and he collapsed to the floor. He watched the empty doorway, his mind finally catching up and wondering what he might have just lost.


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel felt numb as he left the room and headed for the library. He leaned against the table, his hands gripping the edge of it tightly as the tension in his body coursed through him. _Why didn’t you fight back?_ Dean’s words echoed in his mind, and he honestly didn’t know. Perhaps he had thought Dean would not actually hurt him, perhaps he had just wanted so badly to reach the Dean in his lost mind. If he hadn’t stopped Dean when he did ...

“Cas?” A hand on his shoulder startled him and Castiel jumped slightly, turning around quickly and raising his arms in defense.

“Whoa, hey man, what’s wrong?” Sam asked, stepping back. “Cas?”

Castiel took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. For the past few minutes he had not felt like an angel, and his body was reacting with the same fear-driven responses he had picked up during his time as a human. Eventually he looked up, meeting Sam’s eyes.

“Cas? What happened?” Sam’s eyes gave him a once over, seeing the fear in Castiel’s eyes, his disheveled clothes .... “Did Dean do something to you?” he asked, the pieces beginning to fall into place.

“I, uh. No.”

“Cas.”

“No, he didn’t. He --” _he what?_ What could Castiel even say to explain what had happened? Or almost happened with Dean. _Dean._ Who was probably still sitting crumpled on the floor, his mind in too much pain to think clearly.

Sam placed his hands firmly on Castiel’s shoulders. “Cas. What. Happened.”

“You were right, Sam. Dean is not ok. He needs help. He’s still in too much pain from what happened, and he can’t get past it. He needs... I don’t know what he needs. I don’t know how to get him past this.”

“You sure you’re ok?” Sam asked.

Finally feeling calm, Castiel nodded. “Yes, I am uninjured.”

Sam did not look convinced, but he let it drop. “Did Dean say anything about the fight and what happened?”

Castiel shuddered internally as he recalled Dean’s self-loathing statements just prior to attacking him. He pushed the thought aside for now. “Yes. He thinks he’s useless and could have gotten us all killed. And then he --” Cas didn’t know how to explain Dean’s actions, so he stopped.

Sam grimaced. “Yeah, that sounds about right for him.”

“If Dean were...normal... If he were not a hunter,” Castiel clarified, “how would we help him? How do humans heal from something like this?”

Sam shrugged. “Years of therapy probably.”

“I don’t think Dean would agree to that.”

Sam shook his head. “No. Definitely not. Besides, I think this is about more than just what happened last week,” Sam said at last. “This is not the first time Dean’s been sexually assaulted. It’s probably brought up a lot of bad memories for him. And that’s not something he can just get over after a few days, even if he thinks he can.”

Castiel nodded. “I know. When I pulled him out of Hell I rebuilt his memories as well and I wanted to take those from him, but it didn’t seem right. What happened to him in Hell...I thought it was worse than this, but perhaps I was wrong.”

“Those were demons,” Sam said. “And the pain in Hell is, well, it’s different than the pain here.”

Castiel sighed. “So what do we do?”

“I don’t know. Usually when something is hurting Dean he can just punch it in the face, but these demons are all in his head. I think we might just have to give him time.”

* * *

_What have you done? How could you hurt the man you love? Who are you? He’ll never forgive you. You’re a monster and you’ve lost the best thing that ever happened to you. That was the last time you’ll see him. You’re too far gone for anyone to save._

The voices of doubt and self-loathing were louder than ever. Dean remained on the floor. Silent tears rolled down as his cheeks as he imagined Castiel hating him, leaving the Bunker and returning to Heaven. Dean wondered if he would ever see the angel again, and felt the pit in his stomach grow. He felt sick, he felt numb, he was so angry with himself.

The door opened and Castiel stood before him. He had closed his shirt and straightened his clothes. He knelt down beside Dean, his expression a mixture of pity and sorrow. 

Dean’s mind reeled with all the things he should say. How could he ever tell the angel just how sorry he was? How could he ever fix it? He opened his mouth, unsure how to even begin, but Castiel placed a finger against his lips, shaking his head. Dean closed his mouth, remaining silent. Castiel’s other hand gently cupped his cheek and Dean felt a fresh wave of shame sweep over him. 

Castiel could see it all in Dean’s eyes: the anger at himself, the shame of what he had done, and the fear that Castiel would leave. 

“I cannot fix you,” Castiel said quietly. “But I can give you the chance to fix yourself.”

_What the hell does that mean?_

The angel leaned forward slightly, placing a tender kiss on the hunter’s forehead and suddenly the room went dark. 

* * * 

The room was dark, dim light coming only from a flickering old bulb in the corner. Wait, no, not a room. A warehouse. _The warehouse._

Dean felt his blood run cold. 

He was back in the warehouse. Maybe he had never left. He had not gotten away. He was here, he had always been here. Of course. His mind had fooled itself into thinking he had left, had saved himself. It was a lie. He was still here.

Dean was on his back, his arms stretched up behind him, tied to a rusty metal pole. His shirt was drenched with sweat and blood. Every part of his body ached and all he wanted was to fall asleep. How long had it been since they had last beaten him, cut him or violated his body? 

“Good, you’re awake.” The tall, burly man who was the gang-leader smiled mirthlessly down at him. 

Dean’s whole body recoiled at the sound of his voice. He thought he might throw up.

“Now, I know you’re just aching for more,” the man continued, “but we’re gonna give ya a little break. We found a new source of entertainment and the boys need something fresh to keep them busy.”

Dean felt a pit, no, more like a chasm, form in his stomach. Two more of the men came into view, dragging the unconscious limp form of Sam, and dropping him to the ground. 

“Get your hands off him,” Dean growled. “Don’t you dare -”

A pained moan to his left ran a chill through his body and killed his voice. Dean looked over and saw Castiel, crumpled and beaten. His face was covered in dried blood and bruises.

Anger was beginning to overcome fear. Dean stopped struggling against his bonds and began to slowly examine them as best he could with his hands. He had to get out of these chains. He had to save Sam, he could not let these monsters hurt his brother; he could not let them do to Sammy what they had done to him. And Cas...what had they done to Cas?

The men laughed at him, one of them kicking Sam hard in the ribs. Dean felt like his blood was boiling. His hands continued fiddling with the chains. He glanced at Cas again, if only the angel could free his hands...

Sam was beginning to stir as he woke up. One of the men held a gun on Sam. 

“You gonna watch as I make your brother my bitch?” the gang leader smirked down at him. “You remember how much fun I can be the first time,” he leered. 

Dean ignored the taunts, focusing on his hands...if he could just get free... “Cas, you ok over there?” he called. The angel groaned slightly and his eyes fluttered open. He looked terrified as he took in the scene around him. His eyes focused on Dean and suddenly his hands were loose.

Dean dragged his aching tired body up, feeling lightheaded from loss of blood and injuries. The men around him were slow to react. 

“Here.” Castiel tossed him the angel blade. Dean caught it, and in one fluid motion spun to land his elbow hard into the head of one of the men near Sam. He ducked a punch from another, and brought the blade around to stab the man in the stomach. Two down, Dean broke free from the third man’s desperate attempt to pin his arms to his side. He turned, grabbing the gun from the man and using the butt of it to knock him out. 

Only the leader remained. Dean quickly shoved the blade into his jacket pocket and pointed the gun at the man. “Hands. Now.”

The man raised his hands.

“Move away from him.” Dean smirked coldly. “I told you not to touch my brother. You should have listened. Over there,” he motioned with the gun. “Move.”

“Sam? You ok? Get up.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m... ughh” Sam sighed and rubbed his head. 

“Sam, get Cas,” Dean said, not taking his eyes off the leader.

Sam nodded, clambered to his feet and went to check on the angel. 

“On your knees,” Dean commanded, his hand steady on the grip of the gun. The large man obeyed, kneeling down and keeping his hands on up. To the side, Dean could hear Sam helping Castiel stand. The angel was ok. None of them had died. And the men who had hurt him, who had ruthlessly beaten and violated his body were at his mercy. He could rid the world of this human garbage now, forever. 

“Look at me!” he barked.

The man glared up at him. Dean narrowed his eyes, his finger ready on the trigger. Sam and Castiel remained off to the side, the angel leaning gingerly on Sam. 

“Go on, then,” the gang leader urged. “Just shoot me. ’less you can’t.”

Dean smirked. “Oh, I can.”

“Yeah, maybe you liked me a little too much,” the man taunted, “and you just don’t wanna kill me. You want me to -”

Dean smacked him across the face hard enough the man shut up. Dean placed the barrel of his gun against the man’s forehead. “You are one sorry son of a bitch. A walking, talking, piece of shit. You’re wrong. I want to kill you. I could shoot you right here, burn your body and no one would ever know.” He tucked the gun back into his waistband and pulled out the angel blade, holding it against the man’s throat. “Or, I could slit your throat, watch your blood spill as the light slowly goes out of your eyes.”

Now he could see fear in the man’s eyes. He knew this was the end. 

Dean took a breath, pulled the blade back. “No. I won’t kill you. I should. I should kick your ass all the way to Hell, and trust me, that place is no picnic.” Dean stepped back, shoving the man away. “You’ll get there soon enough and I ain’t giving you a fast-pass down there.” 

Dean took another step back. The air around the man shimmered for a moment. Defensive instincts made Dean raise the angel blade once more. The air in the warehouse suddenly seemed very cloudy. Sam and Castiel vanished, the men on the floor before Dean seemed to dissolve and he was alone. 

“What the hell?” 

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean turned slowly, lowering the blade as he was saw Castiel. This was not the Castiel of a few minutes ago -- this one was not injured, his clothes were not bloody or ripped. He looked...normal...powerful. Dean glanced around again at the warehouse. It was all sort of blurry now. Something was not right here.

“This isn’t real, is it?”

Castiel shrugged. “That depends on what you mean by real.” 

“Cut the crap, Cas. This is-- We’re in my head, aren’t we? This is what you meant, about fixing myself...” Dean’s voice trailed off. Castiel nodded. “So, this was what, a test? A spirit quest?” He gestured to the now dissolving scene around them. 

“I just set up the initial dream, what happened after that was up to you,” Castiel answered. He looked concerned, and Dean realized with a pang of regret perhaps the angel was still scared of him. Or what he might do.

“I’m ok,” Dean said abruptly, unsure if he was trying to reassure Castiel or himself.

“Are you?”

“Yeah,” he said with more confidence. “I’m ok. I’m good now.” And just _maybe,_ he thought, it was true.

Castiel smiled.

“What do we do now?” Dean asked.

“That's up to you.”

Dean tossed the blade to the side. “I’m sorry, Cas.” 

“I know.” Castiel stepped towards him. 

“I don’t know ... I can’t ever make it right.” Dean looked at the floor, the shame once more washing over him. “I will do whatever you want. Just, please, Cas, give me a chance to fix it. I don’t deserve it, and you should probably leave, but, please.”

Castiel closed the space between them, his hand reaching out and gently tilting Dean’s face up to meet his gaze.

“I am so sorry.” Dean’s voice cracked. 

“If I forgive you, will you try to forgive yourself?” Castiel took his hands, pulling him closer.

Dean nodded. “Can we go home?” he asked quietly.

The warehouse dissolved, and their room in the Bunker materialized around them. Castiel was still holding his hands, and Dean found his touch incredibly comforting. Calming warmth seemed to spread from Castiel into him. 

Gently, ever so gently, as though afraid he might break Dean, Castiel leaned forward and kissed him. Dean responded, just as calmly. His hands moved up Castiel’s neck, and he ran his fingers through the angel’s dark hair. 

Castiel’s hands slowly pushed off Dean’s coat and plaid shirt, leaving his black t-shirt on. Castiel shrugged off his trenchcoat and suit jacket. He broke the kiss for a moment to lead Dean to sit on the bed, their lips immediately upon each other again. As Castiel reached over to pull Dean’s t-shirt off, Dean moved back slightly. Cas immediately stopped, wondering if he had pushed Dean too fast. 

“Wake me up,” Dean said softly.

Castiel’s signature confused look appeared.

“Wake me up, Cas” Dean said again. “I want to do this with you for real.”

“Are you sure?”

Dean leaned forward and kissed him again. “Yes,” he breathed. 

Castiel smiled. He reached out a hand and touched two fingers to Dean’s forehead. 

* * *  
Dean opened his eyes slowly. The room around him very similar to the dream version of it -- perhaps a bit more solid. He was lying on his bed, and Castiel sat next to him. One of Cas’s hand rested on Dean’s arm, the other gently carded his hair. 

“Tell me what you want, Dean.”

Dean reached out and gently pulled the angel towards him. “I want you, Cas.”

Castiel smiled. “You’ve got me,” he said quietly, leaning down to kiss Dean. “I’m not going anywhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> (Characters of course belong to CW,no infringement intended,etc)


End file.
